And WHY Do I Have to Be Here?
by Onomatopeia Jones
Summary: Trick Jefferson is being forced to go to Sky High because of her powers. Will she find anything redeeming about this school? Or will she spend the next four years in misery?
1. My name is Trick Jefferson

My name is Trick Jefferson, and I am a grade-A smartass. I do only as much work as I have to, I flaunt my powers, and I thoroughly enjoy playing tricks on people. So I'm pretty much a poster child for some sort of superhero reform school, right?

Wrong.

My parents want to send me to freaking Sky High, one of the most prestigious superhero high schools in the country. Apparently, it was the Commander's alma mater, so it will be good for poor, misguided Trick, who only needs 'the right motivation.'

According to my parents, I am displaying all the qualities of a supervillain. But you know what? I'm not. All I want to do is a little acting, a little singing, a little socializing. Normal high school stuff. I do NOT want to be shipped off to a school for freaks. But does anyone care what Trick wants for Trick's future?

NO!

Nobody gives a rat's ass. Nobody. This is why I am currently on a bus hurtling through the sky. Gee, I wonder how they came up with the name 'Sky High?' So, anyway, being a new student. I have to through power placement. Yippee.

"Jefferson!" Coach Boomer calls. I walked up to the platform and hop up, not bothering with the stairs.

"What's your power?"

I rolled my eyes. Power placement was so retarded. "I can control electricity."

"Show us!" he barked. This was easy enough. I snapped my fingers and made the lights flicker. I'm not really entirely sure what my power is, exactly. Well, I have a pretty good idea, but as my powers stem neither from my parents (I think) nor radiation/taxic waste/being bitten by a radioactive animal/any combination of the three, I can't be 100 sure.

"SIDEKICK!" he bellowed. I did my best to control my temper, as my powers tend to get out of control when my temper does.

I'm not very good at controlling my temper.

"Oh, HELL no!" I said, clenching my fists. It was bad enough that I had to be at this stupid school. I was NOT going to be second-string.

Boomer looked at me. "Are you questioning my placement?"

I was pretty sure I was sparking. "Damn straight I'm questioning your placement! I know I'm hero material." HA. That was a lie. I was more like supervillian material. Shocks and a bad attitude? Villian combination in my book.

Boomer looked at me skeptically. "Yeah? Prove it."

I juggled a bolt of electricity between my hands, giving it time to gather power and giving me time to debate whether it would be better to put the bolt through the window or Boomer.

I chose the window.

Boomer rolled his eyes and sighed. "Hero," he said grudgingly. "NEXT!"

I walked out of the gym, having received my correct placement. It's kinda convoluted, but I prefer to make sure I have everything I need to be what I can be. That way, I have no excuse for doing poorly. I don't want anyone to be like, 'Oh, it wasn't her fault. She was doomed from the start.' If I don't live up to my standards, I want people to say, 'What a failure. What a stupid, lazy failure.' For example, if I never save the world like everyone clearly expects me to, I'd rather have people say 'That girl ignored her potential' than 'Boomer ignored that girl's potential.' You see?

I laid on the low ledge surrounding the shrubbery near the front entrance, reading Ibsen's The Wild Duck. Again. I was majorly into theatre, which is another reason that I most certainly did not want to go to Sky High. The theatre department was almost non-existent. As soon as I established myself as credible, that was the first thing to change. I sighed and closed my book, running through my mental checklist.

Make sure I am placed as a hero. My powers are hero powers. (Or villian powers, but shhhhh. They don't need to know that.) Check.

Learn better control of powers. Working on it.

Make sure teachers know I am intelligent and competent. Shouldn't be too hard. I'm smart enough, when I bother trying.

Push for better theatre department. DEFINITE priority.

Find something redeeming about School du Freak. Yeah, not happening so far. 

I knew that the list was going to grow as time wore on, but that was enough for the first day.


	2. Even at a school for freaks

I must've dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I was being woken up, quite roughly, I might add. It startled me so badly that I accidentally discharged a jolt of electricity. I sat up and apologized profusely, growing quite red. I struggled to keep my composure. I had a tendency to glow when I blushed.

"I'm…fine," said the guy who'd tried to wake me. I looked up at him. He was_ fine_! He had these amazing dark eyes and longish black hair with red streaks. I've always been a sucker for a guy with brightly colored hair. He looked at his palms gingerly, checking the damage.

"I…I can get some ice or something," I said, feeling quite horrible. I was sure I'd done some kind of nerve damage.

He shook his head. "No! No, it's okay. Really."

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. Here we go again. Even at a school for people like me, I'm still a freak. I sighed and picked up my book. I checked, and was quite relieved to see that I hadn't lost my place. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Lunch."

I nodded. "Thanks. Well, see ya."

He grunted in response. I noticed the book he was reading. "You're reading Call of the Wild?"

He glanced up at me, than back at his book. "Trying to," he said, irritatedly.

Sighing, I took the hint.

The rest of the school day was quite boring. We had many orientation-type things. We got our schedules and school pictures, as well as our student IDs.

Later that day, I discovered that school bus equals hell. I was forced to share my seat, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. It didn't help that the flying bus was making me nauseous.

When I got off the bus, I stumbled over to the bushes near the fence that separated my uncle's yard from the neighbor's and emptied the contents of my stomach onto them. It was gross. Yet another reason why I did not like Sky High: my old bus never made me throw up. And I didn't have to share a seat.

I laid in the yard, absorbed in my volume of the works of Henrik Ibsen. My aunt knew I was home, so she wouldn't bother me, and the kids played in the backyard. My cousins really were cute, but they fought constantly and bugged the crap out of me. They were both a lot younger than me. Nick was 10 and Kylie was 5. There was constant noise.

Just like home, sweet home.

(Cue flashback)

_I can't control the electricity that buzzes and zaps from every inch of my body, dancing across my skin. It tingles a little. It doesn't hurt me, but it hurts Tommy Fisher from down the street. I try to get him to let go of me, but he won't. I'm screaming, and my little throat is going hoarse. I'm scared. Little electrically charged teardrops are streaming down my face. I just want my mommy to hold me, but she's looking at me like I'm some kind of…monster. Just like the rest of them call me. I'm only seven years old, and people are treating me like a monster. They tell Mommy to take me away, far, far away. Mommy writes a letter to Daddy, and we move near Nana and Grampy. I'm happy, and we live there til I'm nine._

(End flashback)

The same thing that happened in Brayers happened in Mooresville. We moved again. I was eleven when we moved from Mooresville to Grover Gulch. We were there six months. Then came Toadlick, then Prosper, then Cranston. By the time we got to Eldersburg, I didn't bother hiding my powers anymore. I was a thirteen-year-old snit, and cynical as hell. I made a decision that this time, I wouldn't get chased away for losing control of my powers. I was tired of being the good kid who accidentally hurt somebody. This time, I was going to be the hellion who got kicked out while in control of her powers. It took me a year and a half. I'll be fifteen in six months.

* * *

A/N: I absolutely ADORE those 3 amazing people who've added this story to their 'story alert' lists, but reviews would be nice too. I'm not going to beg or demand them, but I'm just putting it out there that reviews are always 2 things: Helpful to know what works and what doesn't, and a huge ego boost. And I really want to know what people like about the story so I can keep it going, and what they don't like so I can fix it. Reviews are like a little early Christmas present. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy. And I try to reply to most of my reviews, or at least take the advice that has been offered. 


	3. Music is a bridge

I, Trick Jefferson, have a dream. My dream is to sing songs that I wrote on a stage in front of people. I sing constantly. It drives everyone around me crazy. It's always some song that I'm writing, too, so it's not even something they can sing along too. Not that that's really such a bad thing. I'm the only one in my family who can sing worth a damn. I've been sitting on the ledge under my window with my guitar, the journal my cousin, Write, got me for my 14th birthday, with little cartoon-ish looking monsters all over it, and my sparkly green pen, writing songs. One night, however, I was in a very RENT kind of mood. Roger is my hero. I had sung (and played) 'One Song Glory' for the hundredth time when our neighbor climbed out his window and sat on his ledge, glaring at me. Because we live in a meaner area, the houses are close enough that, if he wanted to, he could've easily hopped over and made me stop playing. He didn't. He just sat there. Glaring at me. I didn't mind the audience, but he was just sitting there like a seething, glaring lump.

"Do you like Rent?" I asked, trying to provoke the lump into speech.

He shrugged. "I've never seen it."

My eyes widened, and I stared at him in horror. "You've- you've- never seen- Rent?"

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "Yeah…"

I am a proud drama geek, and RENT is one of my favorite shows of all time. The idea of someone having not seen it was…unspeakable! I sighed and shook my head, then went back to my playing.

"Do you know anything besides that song?" asked the boy (whose name I still didn't know) in annoyance.

I nodded, not stopping singing.

"Do you think you could play something else, then?" he growled.

I shrugged. Once I had finished the song, I answered him. "If you don't like my song, don't listen to me."

"It's kinda hard. You are playing right outside my window."

"Point taken. I don't normally take requests, but if you tell me your name, I'll play you something you wanna hear."

"Warren Peace."

I thought a moment. "Isn't that a book?"

He closed his eyes. I was bugging him. "War and Peace is a book. Warren is my name…Peace is my surname."

I felt like an idiot in that moment, and played with my pick to hide my embarrassment. "What would you like to hear?"

"Anything that's not the song you've been playing constantly for the last hour."

"All right, then."

I played 'Ring of Fire.' I sound nothing like Johnny Cash, but I still sound good. I know I sound good. Not even my sadistic aunt could say that I didn't have a good voice. And she hates my guts. With a fiery passion.

"What think ye?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "'What think ye'?"

I nodded. "Yes. Have ye an opinion?"

"You sound like a Shakespearean poet."

I gave him a look.

He chuckled. "Relax, kid. You sound good."

I rolled my eyes. "My name is Trick, not kid. Do not call me kid."

"All right. Relax."

I scowled and shot a little spark at him. It was just a little harmless one, really.

"OW!" he yelped.

"I don't joke around when it comes to my music."

"What the- How the hell did you do that?!" he asked, shocked. (No pun intended.)

I rolled my eyes. "It's kind of my power. Erm, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, my parents don't have powers, so I might have something else. It's not like I can go, 'Oh, I got Mom's electric shocks. Too bad I didn't get Dad's flight.' I'm kinda guessing. The shocks are all that's shown up so far, though."

He nodded in understanding. "So is Trick your real name, Sparky?"

I rolled my eyes. "Real original, calling me Sparky. 'Cause I haven't heard that one about a million and five times."

He shrugged. "Is Trick your real name?"

"No," I sighed. "My real name's Levina. It means lightning," I said, making a face.

"You don't like it?"

"Would you? Anyway, what's your power?"

He snapped his fingers, producing a tiny flame. Being the pyromaniac that I am, my eyes got all wide.

"That's amazing!!!!" I said, going into spazz mode.

He shrugged. I was staring at little flame, transfixed. "How do you do that?" I asked, grabbing his hand and examining it in much the same way that a squirrel examines a particularly interesting leaf or nut.

"How do you DO that?!"

He tried to give me a little scorch, but it didn't harm me at all. Fire never had been able to harm me. The fact that he tried to burn me, however, made me angry, and I gave him a little shock.

"OW!" he yelped again.

I grinned, keeping a death grip on his hand. "I wasn't done."

He scowled at me. I wondered…

I focused very carefully and gave his hand a little electricity, making the flame on his fingertip turn into a fireball in his palm. My eyes got even wider when I saw that I could make the flame turn blue, and then green. I tried purple, and he just stared, gobsmacked.

"How- Wha- How the hell are you doing that?!"

I shrugged. "Haven't you ever heard of an electrical fire?"

"Well, yeah, but- but- but-"

I shrugged, and turned the flame pink. "I guess that's why fire doesn't hurt me."

He looked at me for a long time. "What?" I asked.

"That tingles."

"It's supposed to. One of the perks of controlling electricity is that you give other people tingles. I've been told that it makes me a better kisser," I said, focusing on our hands. "If I can keep it under control," I added under my breath.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, letting have his hand back. "I have to go inside before my aunt comes up to check on me. 'Night, Warren."

"'Night."

I sighed and carefully climbed back through my window, pulling my guitar in after me. I was NOT going to hurt somebody I cared about again. I was not going to fall for Warren Peace.

* * *

Sorry this took so long, guys. blushes and smiles sheepishly BUT! I must know: Think ye that she should fall for Warren, or no? 


	4. Conflicting complulsions

I sighed as I scrunched myself as far away from the guy sitting next to me on the bus as I could. If you haven't noticed, I'm claustrophobic. Like, seriously claustrophobic. I hummed You Can't Hurry Love under my breath, trying to picture somewhere wide and open, just as my therapist in Eldersburg had taught me. The bus turned sharply, causing my seat partner to squish me. I was trapped between him and the window. I may or may not have been hyperventilating. I was getting dizzy, and I just wanted him to get off me. I retreated into my mind, pulling myself into a tight little ball.

"Sorry. Are you all right?"

My eyes were closed tightly, as was my throat. I shook my head. He was still squashing me…

Mercifully, the bus swerved the other way, forcing Bus Guy to get off me. I let out a long, slow breath to calm myself. I opened my eyes to see a guy about my age looking at me apologetically.

"Sorry."

I smiled weakly. "It's…it's all right. I'll live."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"You seemed pretty freaked out."

"Just a wee bit claustrophobic. Not freaked out."

"Oh. I'm Will."

"Trick."

"Nice to meet you. Are you new?"

I do try to be a kind person. Really. And if I can, I avoid being more sarcastic than necessary, especially to people who mean well. Some times, however, are harder than others, such as when people ask stupid questions.

"Uh-huh," I said, doing my very best to keep my sarcasm under control. I'm usually much better at the whole sarcasm thing, but right after my claustrophobia has been triggered, it's especially hard.

"What year are you?" he asked, apparently trying to make up for nearly smushing me by talking to me.

"Freshman."

"Cool. What's your power?"

"Electricity. Call me Sparky and I'll shock you so bad, your grandchildren will be lit up like a light bulb."

He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. So, have you made any friends yet?"

I shook my head. "I try not to. Most people and I don't get along too well."

He chuckled.

"What?" I said, a little insulted that he was laughing at me.

"You sound like Warren."

"Warren Peace?" I asked. I'm not sure why I asked. There were lots of Warrens in the world. Just because he knew a Warren doesn't mean he knew…No. I am NOT going to call him 'my' Warren. My neighbor. No. The guy whose window happens to be right next to mine. Yeah. That's better.

"Yeah. You know him?" the Will person asked, mildly surprised.

I nodded. "He's my neighbor. His bedroom window is right across from mine, so when I sat on the roof playing my guitar, he asked me to play something besides One Song Glory."

Will nodded. "That sounds like him."

The bus landed shortly after my conversation with Will. My first class was PE. In my head I was down on my knees gnashing my teeth and crying out "NOOOOOOOOO!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! NO-HO-HO-HO!!!!!! DON'T MAKE EM DO IT!!!!!"

Outside of my head, I was reading quietly, hoping this 'Save The Citizen' thing would pass me by.

"JEFFERSON! JOHNSON!" Boomer bellowed.

I winced. Of course it wouldn't pass me over. That would make life pleasant for me. And we can't make life pleasant for Trick, can we?

"Hi! I'm Belle. Most people call me Tink or Tinkerbell," she said, very bubbly.

I could see why they called her Tinkerbell. She looked like a pixie; she couldn't have been taller than 5'2", and very petite. Her curly, chin-length auburn hair framed her dainty heart-shaped face. The look in her green eyes made me worry that she was going to drop a firecracker down my back. I could so picture her with a pair of wings, flitting around and playing tricks on people.

"Trick," I said, smiling slightly.

Boomer called the team we'd be competing against. "STRONGHOLD! PEACE!"

"I'm telepathic/telekinetic. What's your power?"

"Electricity." I noticed my neighbor and Bus Guy Will step onto the platform. Oh, great.

_It just gets better and better,_ I thought to myself.

Belle looked at me oddly. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"STRONGHOLD! PEACE! HEROES OR VILLIANS?"

Pleasedon'tbeheroespleasedon'tbeheroespleasedon'tbeheroespleasedon'tbeheroes…

"Heroes," said Bus Guy. Lovely. Pixie Girl and I get to be the villians.

* * *

We lost badly. It was quite sad. I perked up slightly because Belle was in my second period with me. Suddenly, Algebra II/Trig didn't seem quite so brutal. 

"I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you were still a sophomore," she said, daintily settling herself in the seat next to mine.

"Freshman," I corrected. "I did Algebra I last year, and geomtry over the summer."

"Impressive. So..."

"Yes?"

"What's up with you and Warren Peace?" she said, grinning like a preteen at a sleepover.

"Nothing. He's just my neighbor."

"But you like him." She did not ask this as a question. She said this as a statement of fact.

"No," I said firmly.

"Yes you do, love. Your subconscious is practically screaming it!" she said gleefully.

I blushed. "Get out of my head," I whined.

She sighed. "Trick, it's not a bad thing to have a crush. I think it's adorable. I do have to say, though, to be careful. Flame Boy's a little..."

"Dangerous?" I supplied. "People have said the same about me. Usually, people are right about that sort of thing. And anyway, I don't want to have a crush on anybody, because it is a bad thing in my case."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"Bad things tend to happen to people I care about, usually because of me."

"Oh, honey. I'm sorry," she said, putting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged. "It's fine. It's not like he's interested anyway."

"Well..."

I looked at her, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"I'm not saying he's interested, but I did manage to read some very...interesting things in his mind."

I shook my head. This was not happening.

"He probably won't do anything about it," she said hastily.

"Yeah. I hope not. The last thing I need right now is a guy. They're much more trouble than they're worth."

"Yeah. But they're more than worth the trouble," she said dreamily.

"Who is he?"

"There's this guy, a pyrokinetic like Warren, only not as sexy."

"If you like him, why are you saying he's not as sexy as Warren?"

"Because nobody's as sexy as Warren. Anyway, he's a junior, the same as me, he's tall, has amazing blue eyes, and he's very sweet. His name is Westly."

I smiled. "He sounds cool."

She sighed, her chin in her hand. "He is."

We ended up talking for the rest of the class, with me explaining the math problems in between. The bell rang, and we went our separate ways. I got to go to biology. Ugh. There was this one girl who seemed to know everything. Her name was Layla, I think. She was a sophomore, a year older than me. Did I mention that all my classes are the advanced classes? Go figure. I, the slacker, managed to get into the 'smart' classes.

Because I'm in the advanced classes, most of my classmates are a year or two ahead of me. This is why Flame boy is in my fourth, fifth, and sixth period classes. For third period, I had choir, and for seventh I had Theatre. Superhero theatre kids are even weirder than normal theatre kids. I was glad beyond words when the final bell rang, until I remembered the bus ride home.

I got on the bus and sat in the same seat i had sat in that morning, but Will did not. No, instead sat Fire Boy. I silently banged my head against the window. He looked at me oddly.

"What are you doing?"

He was incredibly warm.I could feel his warmth without even touching him. I sighed and ignored him, still banging my head against the window.

"Are you all rgiht?" he asked, raisng an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "Claustrophobic. Don't like flying. Bus is crowded and flies. Yesterday, I reguritated the contents of my stomach into my aunt's rhodedendrons. She was mad."

He nodded and went back to his reading. I couldn't help but notice the book. Was he...? OMIGOD, HE WAS READING IBSEN!!!!

I sighed heavily and held my head between my knees, praying I'd be home soon.

My prayers were granted. This time when I stumbled off the bus, very disoriented, Warren caught me. The place on my arm where he held me up tingled, and it was quite difficult to keep my electricity under control. I mumbled something about having homework, and went inside. This whole 'not falling for Warren' thing was gonna be a lot harder than I thought.


	5. Just can't get no relief

So, I was sent to Sky High to learn better control of my powers, right? Well, that wasn't happening. Actually, it seemed that my tenuous control over my shocks grew less and less every day that Belle and I worked together during Save The Citizen.

And it scared the hell out of me.

I became reclusive, withdrawn, refusing to be anything recognizable as social. I retreated deep into myslf. I refused to risk beginning to care about anyone, not with that hateful electric beast lurking just beneath the surface. What was it that Mom'd called me? Oh, that's right. _Monster._ I went through the motions of being, y'know, human, but the closer I got to losing control, the farther away I got from myself. I fought as hard as I could, but it just didn't seem to be working. I'd have violent fits of shocks coursing through my body, and I white-knuckled through them to keep them from showing. And Mad Science was just about torture- anything we had to build that ran on electricity shorted out when I so much as walked past it. I took to skipping that class when I could. Theatre, too, even though I loved it, because I couldn't risk someone touching me during a scene and discharging me during one of my fits. Also, I didn't want anyone to notice, especially Ms. Avius, who had eagle eyes when you were on stage. (And everywhere else too; it was one of her powers.) I couldn't skip too many classes, or I'd never get any sort of education. I went to Algebra II/Trig, but I sat in the back and never spoke unless I had to because I was called on. I went to History. I went to English and Creative Writing, but only because those became my only two outlets, aside from my music. Even then, I hadn't touched my guitar since the night I fried my E string during a shock attack. They were building. They were coming harder, closer together, and more often. My check list, those ambitious star-flung goals I'd set at the beginning of the year, was abandoned. By Winter Break, my only goal was to survive, to keep my powers under control.

And it was hell.

I was pale, I barely ate, barely slept. When I did, it was fitful, nightmare-haunted. I became weak and weary. By the day before Winter Break, I wasn't a withdrawn recluse. I was a ghost-like shell of my former self. All my energy, passion, all my fire, was gone, drained by the episodes that I miraculously managed to contain. Of course Belle knew all about it, being the telepath that she was, and my friend besides. She wanted to help. She thought she could help. She was going to help, goddammit, whether I liked it or not.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. This one was worst than the last. Belle looked over at me sympathetically, comforting me from across the room.

_A really bad one?_ she asked mentally, looking over at me, blue eyes filled with concern.

I smiled weakly in her direction, my head spinning. _Not anything I can't handle,_ I replied. I knew she'd know I was lying, since her powers allowed her to tap into my mind during the attacks, and it was just obvious. She frowned.

_Trick, that one was awful. You're light-headed. I bet you couldn't stand if you had to. I don't know how you function in class. Are you even passing? If it were me, I'd probaby have collapsed after the first one. You really ought to see the n-_

_STOP!_ I mentally screamed, biting my lip to keep myself from gasping in pain. I knew she didn't do it on purpose. Belle was just naturally bubbly and hyper, and a wee bit spastic. I swallowed and bit back a whimper. _Please, Belle, just be quiet for a moment. You're talking too fast. My head is killing me_, I thought weakly. It seemed everything I did lately was weak. Even Boomer noticed how shoddy my performance had been in his class. I was in danger of failing, but what could I do? My powers were slowly killing me. I knew that soon I was either going to lose control or kill myself. Oh, God. How was I gonna make it through the second semester?

_Sorry,_ Belle ventured timidly. _If you want, I could come over this weekend and we could pick up where we left off._

I nodded gratefully. _Please and thank you._ Belle had been using her powers, both telepathic and telekinetic, to try and soothe my mind and body from the damage that my episodes were doing. So far, it seemed to be working. She'd sit on my floor cross-legged and I'd lay on a couple quilts spread on the floor. The first thing she always did was send me into blissful, dreamless sleep while she worked on untangling my gnarled thoughts. The way she said it made it seem like she was massaging my mind, and our sessions had about that effect. I always woke up feeling a lot better than I had before. I often worried that by travelling into my troubled psyche she'd end up hurting herself, but at that time Belle was the only thing linking me to the real world, and I needed her. I clung to the lifeline she threw out to me like a drowning man. And in a way, that's exactly what I was, only instead of being swallowed up by the ocean, I was being swallowed up by my own power.


	6. Somebody save me

Winter Break was rather uneventful. I spent a lot of time with Belle, probing and exploring the nature of my powers. There was some secret that my family was keeping from me, I knew it, but I couldn't figure it out. A lot of nights, I didn't get back til like eight or nine. I tried to spend as little time at home as I could. My aunt hated me. She made my life hell, and oh my God, how she taunted me. She'd remind me of what happened in all the other towns I'd ever lived in, and how I destroyed the lives of everyone I cared about.

After one such conversation, I slammed out the door at about nine at night. It was pitch black except for the street lights, and snowing. I hugged my thick coat closer to myself, pulled my fuzzy hat a little lower over my ears, and tucked my mittened hands under my arms, doing anytihng I could to keep warm. I felt the hot tears leave frosty trails as they trickled down my cheeks. I was in no condition to be out in that sort of weather. I was weak from my powers destroying me from the inside out, and I hadn't eaten or slept in a couple days. Basically, I was a stupid girl with no good reasons for her stupid actions. It didn't help that I'd lived in the South for most of my life, though I didn't have an accent. The cold was definitely not what I was used to.

Add my weakned state, the unfamiliarly harsh weather, and an extraordinarily strong surge, and you can see why I collapsed in the snowbank I was walking beside. I couldn't help it. It was either discharge or short myself out, and I didn't want to risk hurting someone near me just because I couldn't control my powers. I'd already hurt enough people. My powers had ruined any chance Mom, Joey, and Sarah had for a normal life, and the first time I ever surged, I'd nearly killed Bobby Fisher, and my first kiss, Tommy Wall, had been badly injured when I lost control, and then Dad...

If I hadn't been the monster that I was, Dad would never have OD'ed. I was so repulsive to him- he couldn't stand the sight of me. If I'd never existed, he'd still be alive. maybe, if I was lucky, I'd freeze there in that snowbank. I'd never hurt anyone ever again, I wouldn't burden my mother anymore, I wouldn't burden my aunt...Yeah, freezing into peaceful oblivion seemed pretty good.

These were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I ground my teeth, keeping the surge from escaping. Oh, shit. I was only just barely able to keep it in. I saw faint little sparks dance over my vision as my eyes fluttered closed and I sank into the snow, my meager body heat melting the frozen flakes around me. My strength was completely spent as the surge finally trickled off to a gently buzzing current, lulling me into frozen sleep.

* * *

He was walking home from his shift at The Paper Lantern when he saw her there, lying in the snow. He bounded over to her as quickly as the deep snow and his heavy boots would allow, praying to God that he wasn't too late. He pulled her soaked scarf down just a bit to expose her pale throat. Oh, shit. Her lips were blue. He felt under her jaw for her pulse. It was faint and fluttering, but there none the less. He scooped the little electrokinetic into his arms and rapped her inside his jacket with him, thankful for once that his pyrokinesis elevated his body temperature. He hoped she'd be okay. SHe couldn't die on him, she just...couldn't! He'd found himself slowly falling for her ever since that night on the roof. Her eyes, her spunk, the way her hips swayed when she walked. He didn't speak to her if he could help it, because he didn't speak to anyone, but there was something different about her. He sensed that her dark side matched his own, that she'd understand. He'd noticed how she'd changed over the smester. He felt it when she went from being her cynical, saracastic, smart-ass self to the ghost-like waif she'd become. Even now, as he clutched her to his chest, desperately running towards his house, he could feel how light she was, how delicate and bird-like, like if he held her too tightly, she'd break. She was cold. Ohshitohshitohshit... YES! Finally home! He bounded up the front steps, bursting through the doorhis voiuce softly screaming urgency as he told his mother what had happened. When Serena Peace, a nurse, took charge,spiriting the girl up the stairs to her bedroom, Warren slumped down in the ratty old recliner in the living room, feeling tired yet relieved. Trick was safe.


	7. Cause I can't save myself

Warren Peace woke up with a nasty crick in his neck. He wasn't sure why, tho- Oh. Yeah. He'd fallen asleep in the ratty old recliner. That was why. He'd fallen asleep in the ratty recliner after basically throwing the unconscious eletrokinetic at his mother, the nurse. Speaking of whom...

He got up and wandered into the kitchen, following the smell of blueberry waffles. He saw his mother, in pajama pants and a ratty old t-shirt, standing over the waffle iron. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She turned around and smiled wearily at her son.

"Mornin', sunshine," she greeted, as was her habit.

"Morning, Mom." Waren sometimes wondered if he wasn't adopted or something. He looked nothing like his mother. She was tall and willowy with long, straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Warren was decidedly not. He abandoned his musings, however, for the sake of inquiring after their... guest. "Is she all right?"

Serena Peace sighed. "She will be; when you brought her in, she had hypothermia and something else I can't quite identify. Does she have powers?"

Warren nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Electrokinesis. Why?"

Serena thought a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh, my," she said to herself. "Oh, dear. That's... and nobody noticed..."

"What?" Warren asked, a bit alarmed at his mother's reaction.

"Warren," she said, worry furrowing her pale brow, "her powers have been killing her from the inside out."

* * *

I groaned as I woke up, hazy and disoriented. I tried to sit up, but the attempt made my head spin. I whimpered softly, hating how weak I was. I lay back, closing my eyes to stop the room spinning. Okay. Better. I tried once more to sit up, and instantly a strong pair of arms was under my back. I looked up at... Warren Peace?! Okay. Don't panic. Panicking will lead to shocks, and shocks will lead to... well, probably an eletrical fire.

"Um, where am I, what happened last night, and whose bed am I in?" Those were the three questions Mom said I should never have to ask. Of course, I think my present situation was hardly the one she'd been thinking of. The last thing I remembered was a huge surge and wanting to fall asleep in the snow. I shivered slightly, slowly remembering what had happened last night.

"You're at my house. I found you unconscious in the snow last night, so I brought you home to my mom. This was the closest place to where you were, and my mom's a nurse," he explained. I noticed that Warren still had his arms under my back, supporting me. And that he hadn't answered my last question. It was a bit ironic, though. I'd never been the type guys brought home to their moms anyway, and Warren Peace. Had brought me home. To his mother. It was just hilarious to me. I would've laughed, but it seemed like it might be painful, so I restrained myself.

I nodded and shivered, rubbing my arms up and down to get rid of the goosebumps. I was lying under two thick blankets, but I was still cold. Warren pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

"Um, Warren," I began, my voice muffled by his chest. "What exactly are you doing?"

"You almost froze to death," he replied. "You seemed cold, and my temperature always runs a few degrees higher than normal."

"Oh. Um, thanks," I said, pulling back a bit so I could look at his face. "You know, you never answered my last question."

Warren blushed. What the hell? Warren Peace. Blushing? I didn't even know that was possible."Um... mine. Mom was dead tired last night, so I volunteered my bed for you so she'd be able to sleep in hers. I took the couch."

"Oh." I looked around the room. The walls were dark blue. There were a couple band posters, and a slight smell of smoke, but there wasn't anything demonic. "Your room isn't nearly as frightening as some might think." He rolled his eyes.

"What were you expecting?" he asked with annoyed amusement.

"Scorch marks. Dead puppies. A voodoo doll or two."

He looked at me incredulously. "Voodoo dolls?"

"Hey! Mr. Tall Dark and Pissy, how am I supposed to know that you're not some kind of like... devil worshiper or something?"

That earned me another eye roll. "A devil worshiper," he repeated flatly.

"Yes. Will you please stop repeating everything I say? And kindly let go of me. I can sit up on my own," I snapped peevishly.

"Fine!" he said exasperatedly, doing as I had asked.

I grimaced with the effort, but I did manage to sit up on my own. Then I tried to stand. That didn't work out quite as well. I went dizzy and fell back onto his bed. I looked up at him, seeing the look he was giving me. I scowled. "Don't give me that look!"

"You. Almost. Died. Last. Night. And now you're being stubborn, probably making yourself worse!" He growled and stalked out of the room. Good. I didn't want him there anyway. No one asked him to save me. In fact, they'd probably prefer that he hadn't. Yes, I was being a brat, but I never aske him to get involved. He should have just left me in the snow. I sighed and curled up on my side, burrowing underneath the blankets. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I noticed that Warren had snuck into my room last night and brought me my guitar. That was nice of him...

* * *

Warren watched as the electronkinetic slept soundly. She looked so angelic, with her dark hair fanned around her pale face, now serene with sleep. She looked younger. She didn't look angry or hurt or haunted or any of those things that she normally was. A fare of anger surged in him as he imagined anyone hurting the angel in front of him, even more when he imagined them making her believe it was her fault. (Trick talked in her sleep.) He sighed and got up, leaving her to sleep in peace.

This was crazy! Since when did he get hung up on a girl? What was so different about Trick Jefferson? She was pretty, yes, but not in an obvious way, not like Gwen Grayson had been. She was smart, but not the smartest, powerful, but not the most powerful. Maybe it was because she was like him? Destructive, but she didn't want to be. Called things like 'monster,' 'freak.' An outcast.

Maybe that was why he wanted to protect her so badly.


End file.
